Moonlight Rainbow
by Kami-Nyan
Summary: A Frerard story, not first I ever wrote but first i ever published here.
1. Chapter 1

Ummm… hello, I'm not really use to publishing my work anywhere or even showing it to anybody, so it feels kinda weird. After few days of non-stop reading Frerard stories I decided to finally post something. I'm hoping for some criticism so I'd learn how to write better stories. I had a very insomniac night and wrote this on my phone.

Here it is, it's more of a prologue, so I'm hoping to continue the story

* * *

I cover my face with hands, not knowing if those tears are real. I think I feel my fluffy pillow, I think, maybe the warm metallic liquid in my mouth is blood, I think I still exist... I think, I don't know if it's true or am I just still this high. No, I didn't felt anything, my life was gone… so this is now, I just hit the rock bottom. I can't see even the most blurred line between reality, and what my precious pills and powder, so badly want to show me.

Now I'm hidden, at least I feel hidden with my arms above my head and this fucking pillow protecting my stomach from the hard wall of our bus. Hidden from whole world, hidden from my little brother, from Ray, everyone else from our crew, from Frankie... Especially Frankie. I said so many weird things; I did so many stupid things to him. I can't look into my own eyes in that tiny shitty mirror on wall, not even talking about his. I'm half asleep half high. Not thinking 'bout my fucking existence. I could really use a drink now, yeah I need a drink. Standing up is painful. I spotted a bottle of Jack Daniels. I can't remember if I like this shit! But I really need a drink. Not bothering to find a glass I drink directly from the bottle. I try to focus my eyes on anything, so I'd stop feeling like on a gigantic -and way slower than a real one- carousel. I stop my eyes in the right corner of my bed, something eye-hurting-red is there. I slowly, trying not to fall, move in that direction. I sit down on the middle of my bed, my legs are relived. I can feel the blood going through my veins, even the smallest ones. My heart is going to explode any second, it's beating too fast. I need to find out what is this red piece of shit. Those few seconds I use to reach it, those centimetres, are like hardest fuckin' journey of my life. It's cold, the thing in my hand is cold. Oh, gotta lie down. I lay down, I'm lying on my back with hands up, over my head, so I'd see what was the reason that made me do such an exhausting movement. Skittles, a red pack of skittles, must be Frankie's. Opening that pack is harder than I remember. Few of colourful like rainbow candies find their own way out of the bag which was their jail since they were produced. Do I seriously feel sorry for candies which I'm going to eat anyway? Oh god it must be really fucking bad with me. I pour all of candies on my bed and begin my search for the green ones. I like the green ones. If I swallow them like pills will I get a placebo effect? No, no the purpose of candies is to taste they sweetness or sourness, if I swallow it, I obviously won't taste it. It's bad to make someone or something do what they weren't meant for.

"Don't eat all the green ones by yourself" huh? Who said that, whoever it is he must be very far away. But whose voice was it? I take another green candy and close my eyes. "I mean it, others like those green too" whose voice is it, it's driving me crazy. I guess I wouldn't recognize my own mother right now. But it's a man's voice... Who is in the bus now? Mikey? Ray? Frank? Oh fuck, mysterious voice, don't you dare be Frankie's voice! "Hey, listen! And they're mine anyway" For fuck's sake why does it has to be him? I slowly open my eyes to make sure. I see a hand right in front of my eyes. My heart starts pumping my blood even faster, if it is somehow possible. That's it, enough. I open my mouth trying to say something, unsuccessfully, I try again, again, again... Fifth time it worked  
"Frank? Have you seen my pills?" I say slowly.  
"Yes, I have"  
"Good... can you tell me where they are?" I'm sitting up; trying not to lose balance  
"I have them here" I move my hand forward, waiting for him to give me my utopia makers.  
He makes those big eyes and says "You won't get any"  
"Oh, can you make me some coffee?" I need those pills, NOW. He walks out of the room. I stand up; I know I have just a minute or two. My hands are shaking. I start searching; there should be hidden few, somewhere here. I look through every drawer, in every corner, the mattress! I pull it up; there are they, my little treasure... But the rest of skittles fell on the ground making noise. Enough noise to worry Frank and make him run to check on me. I put them in my mouth as fast as I can. He sees it, he grabs my throat and tries to force me to open my mouth. He slapped me, he really fuckin' did! But no; no no no I can't do the same, no no no I won't do it, I cannot hurt him.  
"Spit it out! Gerard! Spit it out!" He wouldn't be stronger than me if I wasn't so fucking stoned and drunk. He forces his fingers into my mouth and tires to somehow get those pills out of there. I don't know how he succeeds, maybe I gave up? I don't know. He slaps me again; my chin is red from those two slaps. "You cannot do this anymore Gerard, you can't..." His face is blurry, but I hear that his voice is sad. "I need some kind of drug Frankie, I NEED" his face is closer, I can see his sad eyes, he closes them, no, no I want to see them! I must tell him to open his eyes! But he doesn't give me a chance. After all I did and said to him... He kissed me, he really fuckin' did.


	2. Chapter 2

Omg omg omg, someone actually read it, and someone followed woooow... Even that means "a whole fuckin' lot" to me. Again, most of it written on my phone so I'm really sorry if there are some weird mistakes made by my lovely autocorrect.

Oh and sadly, I don't own any of MCR members.

* * *

I woke up lying on the floor, I guess I did. It was cold. I was sweating, shivering, I felt sick. And now, I see a broken bottle, Frank's shoes and few small sweet round things, wait what was their name? ...lit...ski...kill...skittles! Skittles yeah, few of them lying on the floor just like me. Oh I need something, oh I need... But there's nothing! The floor is slightly vibrating, so I'm guessing we must be on a highway. I hear someone moving.  
"Good morning sleeping princess" I see a pair of hazel-green eyes above me "how are you feeling?" his eyes are tired, I can tell. He probably wasn't sleeping at all this night. But he is smiling.  
"Dry" my short answer made him laugh a little "gimme coffee"  
"no tricks this time, I cleaned this place up there is NOTHING"  
"I just want coffee..." his slow steps sound like Bob hitting the biggest of his drums. Oh god my head! I press my forehead against perfectly cold floor. Oh yes, lying here was probably one of best ideas in my life. But why did I do it? Why am I on the floor? Beautiful smell of coffee enters the room with Frank.  
"It's your own fault Gee, you are really stubborn you know?" was I thinking at loud? I must have... Otherwise, how could he answer? "It was 'a fucking lot more comfortable than bed'"  
"It still is" what is so funny about that? You don't have to giggle when I only confirm what I said before.  
"Planning on getting up from there" as an answer I mumble something what was supposed to be 'maybe' and move my head few inches up before giving up.  
"Coffee? I also have aspirin" he gives me a hand to help me stand up and gives me a cup filled up with caffeine liquid. "I lied about aspirin"  
"Bastard"

* * *

I lean myself over the edge of my bed almost throwing up, the bowl on the floor is jumping with every stone, hole and random item that busses wheels meet on the road.  
"Oh Gerard, not again!" Mikey can you stop shouting?  
"How fucking possible can you be alive?" why doesn't he listen? I'm thinking really loud, so loud I shouldn't have to open my dry mouth to be heard "I mean, it's good that you are! But how, after all that?"  
"Mikey, shut the fuck up" I whisper so quietly, I don't think he could hear what I said, but he must have seen my mouth move a little. He got the message, and stopped talking immediately.  
"Frank..." he didn't hear, I see him move a little closer carefully and slow "what did you say?"  
"Frank" I guess it is too quiet for him to hear as he asks like I didn't say anything "do you want me to get you something?"  
"Frank" a whisper exits my mouth along with fast blown air 'cause my breathing is speeding up again.  
"You want me to get you Frank?" I nod "he is probably asleep after sitting here with you for 15 hours. Do you want me to wake him up?" he asks with a light shadow of concern on his face. I nod again.  
"We had to force him to go to bed, Bob is going to kill me for doing this..."  
"Frank" I whisper again.  
You silly Mikey... Drugs are used when I want them, not when they want to be used. I don't fucking care how they feel.  
He walks slowly out of the sleeping area mumbling something what sounds like 'I am so dead'. Wait if Frank is sleeping why isn't he here? Why am I here alone? Oh, maybe it's day time now... But I can't really remember anybody (besides Frank and Mikey of course) around here for longer than few seconds...

* * *

Sweet pleasure of seeing him suffers. He cannot do anything, he is not allowed to. I just want him sitting here by my side, and watch the pain which is more visible on his face with every second. It's not physical pain; I wouldn't hurt him, never! But torturing him this way is the most entertaining activity I did for last few days. He has to pay the price of keeping me away from my love. So I made him sit by my side 24/7 and help me with easiest things in the whole fuckin' universe.  
"May I ask you about letting me sleep for few hours?" his voice is tired, his eyes and body need sleep. But I see, if he only could, he would stay here and watch me draw, just like he did for past 2 hours.  
"Yes, you may ask," I smile with those words when I see him biting on his lips. Again, just like he did for past 2 hours.  
"Can I please go to sleep?" I point at right in front of me, nodding.  
"There" he sighs but does as I say. Not even stepping on the floor he slowly moves and lies down on the bed opposite to mine. They aren't really beds; sad reality is that those 'beds' are only holes in walls with thin mattresses at the bottom. It's just easier and nicer to call them beds...


	3. Chapter 3

So, umm, hi.

I'm really sorry for not updating this for so long time, I had no motivation to write anything and when I finally wrote something it usually wasn't longer than 10 lines, so I kept writing those short bits on my phone when I felt somehow _inspired. _I wrote a lot of them…

So the good thing is I almost have next chapter finished.

Sadly I do not own any of MCR members etc.

* * *

When I woke up, Frank was still sleeping. Even though we slept on to different beds our faces were really close to each other. See, that says a lot about how shitty the sleeping area in bus is. No more than a meter distance between walls with beds.

He really is an angel while he sleeps. His pretty face, closed eyes and half-opened mouth, like a baby, and oh, so peaceful. He is lying on his right side, facing me, same position as he fell asleep.

His face is really pretty, and he doesn't move... Maybe? Oh I should do it, now when I have a chance. I grab my sketchbook and still lying down begin with basics of his face. I placed eyes, nose and his perfect lips in right places on the paper. Now detail time! Don't you move Frankie, don't move...

15 minutes of almost total silence, almost 'cause you can hear my pencil slowly moving around on my paper... oh yes his eyes are fuckin' perfect now! I don't think I'm gonna add any colors. Nose; oh that was easy. Hair... ok done!

And now my dearest Frank, if you wake up or move. I am simply going to kill you. I need to capture this exact expression. So don't you move if you want your heart to beat a little longer than 20 seconds. But hey, those would be some happy 20 seconds! You'd be looking at my face from almost no distance; it may hurt a little...

Oh how should I kill you Frankie? What is your dream death? No, no wait, I was drawing. Oh god... No, I can't do such a thing as killing Frank... Never! Drawing, concentrate! Slowly, don't make any mistakes...

I'm not used to draw so realistically.

But he is so perfect, so unrealistically prefect, like porcelain figure. Perfect lips, I need them. What's their structure? Are they soft? I've kissed them many times before but I can't remember. I place one finger on the lower part, press it slowly, and part his lips a little more than it was before. Then quickly return my hand back to drawing.

Every line must be ideal. Slowly, line after line I finish my drawing, well at least all the features on his face.

It's pretty, but it still needs shading. I find one if the softer pencils, one that will do a perfect blur...

"Gee?" I hear his sleepy voice, and try to not explode with anger "What are you drawing Gee?"  
"Nothing"

* * *

Get up Gee, get up you little shit.

Hardly moving my hand I begin my first fight of the day. Slowly slipping my legs from under the warm covers and pushing my body up with my hands.

I finish the battle, just to begin next one. Putting some clothes on.  
Black skinnies should be fine. Gotta find a T-shirt, drawers? No, nothing there. Well, there are some on the floor; I just don't really believe that they have any possibility of being clean.

Nah, who cares?

I'll go fix myself a nice cup of coffee, yeah, that sound good. Kitchen, kitchen, welcome me nicely, it's not my very best day, so please be nice.

Sticking my hand into back pockets I make my way to the kitchen.

There is something in my right pocket, something in a small plastic bag. My heart speeds up. Can it be? My hands are shaking, I'm holding this precious bag in front of my eyes. Yes. Yes. Yes. It is!

A bit of white powder is still in it, not much, but enough. I know they'll be really disappointed when they'll find out. I bit my bottom lip. Fuck it, I need, I need, I want.

I run to the kitchen board, and pour all of it on the board. A knife should be fine. I make a so not perfect line, there's no time for perfection. Oh gosh, there is enough for two lines! I form the second line a little more straight.

My eyes light up and a smile forms on my lips, as I slowly move my head toward my instant, fake happiness.

One. Deep breath.

Two. Deep breath.

Oh yes... Deep breath.

Oh no... Deep breath.

I lose my balance collapsing on the floor. Deep breath.

I feel a warm drop dripping from my nose. Deep breath.

I close my eyes. Deep breath.

Someone, please kill me. No deep breath this time.

* * *

"Slowly honey," his voice is unbelievably calm. Oh, what have I done, gosh why am I so stupid.  
"I'm sorry..."  
"shh, shh sweetie" he touches my forehead, how come haven't I noticed before how delicate his hands are?  
"I'm sorry..."  
"it's ok, it's ok sweetie. Sleep now, you're tried, you have fever. Sleep, I'll be here when you wake up," I wish I didn't felt this shiver when he said those words, I'm supposed to be addicted, not in love.  
"Will you?"  
"I promise. I'll take care of you"  
I nod, will you kill me Frankie? This is probably the best way of taking care of me right now.  
I open my mouth to say my last thought at loud, but I'm stopped by his "shh" and a hand on my chin.  
"You need to sleep now" he says lightly pushing me on the bed. Smell of cigarettes hits me when he palaces a kiss on my forehead. There's no sexuality in his actions, not a bit. He's just worried, and sees me as a hurt child now. I'm okay with that. I need attention; he's giving me a perfect amount of it.  
I do as he wants me to, letting him stroke my hair a little, in this soft comforting way.  
"Goodnight Gee," he whispers, and I fall asleep to his melodic voice not even trying to answer back.

* * *

I wake up, fast breathing, sweat all over.

I push myself up to see my terrible reflection in the shitty mirror on the wall. Sticky hair still tired eyes with 2 days-old eyeliner. I look awful. I see Frank's reflection behind mine, he's smiling.

I'm gonna throw up. Overcoming all my fears of leaving my safe bed, I run to the bathroom.

I hate it; I really, really hate it. I push back my hair, holding my head just few inches above toilet. Sweet, really sweet… Oh the sweet taste in my mouth is going to be destroyed in 3...2...1... Die darling.

A knock on the bathroom door. I mutter something to let them know I'm still alive.

Second knock on the door.  
"Go away... I'm fine!" I try my best to sound like I really am fine.

It obviously isn't working because right after my answer the door opens.


End file.
